


been here before

by Boogum



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Post Chat Blanc, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:36:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26888992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boogum/pseuds/Boogum
Summary: The sight of Marinette with her hair down is a slip of ice on his spine. It's the little prickles that creep along his skin, whispering to his soul of familiarity. Ofbeen here before. It's the haze of dreams and echoes of loneliness and ice, and it leaves him frozen.Or, in which Adrien starts to remember the events of Chat Blanc.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 49
Kudos: 794





	been here before

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leviaana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviaana/gifts).



> Happy birthday leviaana! I'm sorry this is so late but I wanted to write something for you regardless. You are such an amazing person and your art always makes me so happy (even when it suckerpunches my heart and makes me cry hfiwahkj). I hope you enjoy this!

It's such a simple thing. The hair ties are gone, Marinette's black hair is like silk brushing her shoulders. So simple. Just hair. But Adrien's breath is snatched from his lungs and all he can do is stare. Not because she looks beautiful, no. It's only a distant part of him that realises this truth.

The sight of her is a slip of ice on his spine. It's the little prickles that creep along his skin, whispering to his soul of familiarity. Of _been here before_. It's an ache of a missing limb, a heartbeat that should have filled a silent gap.

It's the haze of dreams and echoes of loneliness and ice, and it leaves him frozen.

"Your hair looks beautiful," Kagami says.

Adrien blinks, grounded back to the present like the snap of an elastic band. "She's right," he says, managing a smile.

Marinette blushes and ties her hair up in the usual pigtails. A part of him is almost glad. It's better this way. It has to be. The echoes are gone, the confusion chased away by conversation and what he knows is real and familiar.

He's never seen her with her hair down, after all. It's ridiculous to think otherwise.

oOo

"Do you need help with that?" Adrien asks.

Marinette shrieks. Her hands fly up, one of them striking him hard in the chin. A book and the entire contents of her pencil case go everywhere—coloured pencils and everything. It's like the speckles of a snow globe raining around them, though much less gracefully.

"Adrien! I'm so sorry!" She does her little panic dance, hopping from one foot to the next, hands on her cheeks as she asks if he's okay and apologises over and over.

"Don't worry about it," he says, though his chin throbs. "It's my fault for giving you a fright."

He bends to pick up the open book near his feet, which looks filled with designs.

_Clonk!_

Their foreheads collide, and he pulls back, swallowing a hiss of pain. More apologies spill from her lips. Then she gasps.

"Your head!" she exclaims.

He blinks. "My head?" Another blink as swelling forms on her forehead, comically noticeable just like in the cartoons. "Oh—"

"I've got to get you to the nurse!"

She looks ready to storm a fortress. A warm hand latches around his wrist, but he digs his feet in and nods at her scattered belongings.

"How about we pick these up first?"

Pink spreads like sunrise over her face. "Right."

oOo

They sit next to each other on the hard, butt-bruising bed in the nurse's room, knees and arms brushing. Both hold an icepack to the round lumps that stick out on their foreheads like swollen eggs. And, yes, they look ridiculous.

His head throbs. The swelling probably won't go away for a while, which means his photoshoot will have to be rescheduled. Father will not be pleased. Really, Adrien has every reason to be frustrated. But he isn't. He can't. Not when it comes to Marinette. Not when it means he gets to sit here in this room, so close he can feel each breath she takes.

He doesn't know why, but every moment he spends with her feels precious. This girl whose friendship he had to earn. This girl who is so kind, so brave, and so … so Marinette.

"I'm sorry," she mumbles.

She's said the words many times now. He places his free hand on hers, hoping it will help him get through to her. Hoping that it won't spook her into backing off.

Her fingers twitch and her eyes widen.

"Marinette," he says gently. "It's fine. Really." He smiles, soft and warm and—

_Been here before._

His breath catches in his throat. His heart jumps about like a clumsy gymnast. Somehow, it feels like he's sat with her in this very room, knees brushing, his hand on hers. Then he'd leaned in and, and—

He'd kissed her.

The icepack slips from his grasp, tumbling to the floor. He snatches his hand back from hers and turns away. His heart thumps and thumps. His breathing is shaky.

"Adrien?"

He brushes the tip of his thumb against his lips, eyes wide. He can almost feel it—her lips on his, satin soft and tasting of strawberry.

"Hey." She tentatively touches his back. "Is … everything okay?"

"I—" He clears the croakiness out of his voice and turns back to face her. "Sorry. I, uh …" Yeah, he has no idea how to explain his behaviour. He shrugs and offers a strained smile. "Just had a clumsy moment."

She touches his knee, her eyes filled with worry. "But you're okay, right? Do you need anything? Do you want me to—"

"No, no, I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

But his gaze drops to her lips, and he can't help but wonder: would her lips really taste like strawberry? And why does being around her awaken memories he's never lived?

oOo

_Beep, beep, beep!_

The alarm blares in his ear. Adrien jolts awake like he's been poked with an electric stick. His heart races, his throat bobs as he swallows, desperate to ease the dryness.

Again. He had the dream again.

He presses his face to his hands and slows his breathing, but behind his closed eyes he can still see snatches of scenes like a scrambled puzzle. A slow dance. A breakup that cataclysms his heart. A girl crying in the rain and a black butterfly fluttering towards her back. Her hair was down. It's always down in his dreams. And though her face is often a blur, he just _knows_.

"Marinette," he whispers.

There's a sharp knock at the door. "Adrien, are you getting ready?" Nathalie calls.

He fumbles out of his bed. "Y-yeah! Be down in a minute!"

oOo

"Dude, are you okay?" Nino asks.

Adrien tugs his bag strap up to a more comfortable position on his shoulder. "Yeah. Why?"

Nino scrunches his nose. "I dunno, man, you've just been kinda … off lately." The creases on his brow deepen. "Your dad isn't working you too hard, is he?"

"No, no—"

"Cause I will totally go over there and—"

"Nino," Adrien says, half laughing, "it's fine. I'm fine. I've just been having some weird dreams and stuff. It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"You sure?"

"Very sure." Adrien slings an arm around his shoulders. "Just like I'm sure I'm gonna kick your butt at Miraculous Racing."

"Whoa now." Nino holds his hands up. "Back up, back up. That's going too far. I think we both know I'll be doing the butt kicking today."

Adrien laughs. They toss light-hearted insults and challenges at each other. It's comfortable and easy, like their friendship. And if Adrien leans a bit closer to him than usual, Nino is nice enough not to question it since Adrien has already made it clear he doesn't want to talk about the topic.

After all, how do you tell your friend that you dream about him almost every night as being a statue trapped in a flooded Paris? Silent. Dead.

Shattered with one touch.

oOo

It's raining. The soft pitter-patter should be soothing, but for Adrien it splinters his mind with echoes and things he doesn't quite understand. The akuma he knows he needs to stop, Marinette crying, his black claws turning to icy white. He doesn't understand any of it.

Why?

_Why?_

But the question only ripples to more echoes, ones even his splintered mind doesn't dare to fully unveil. All he has are fragments. Hawk Moth standing over him, the overwhelming pain that slams into his soul in a relentless storm, that makes him succumb.

A little kitty on a roof all alone without his lady.

He's tired and so on edge that it feels like he's an old piano string under too much stress. Bruises under his eyes, his clothes hanging looser on his already slim frame. Not flattering. Just another thing for his father to scold him about, for his makeup artist to sigh about.

He's a wreck. He can't keep going on like this.

The umbrella slips from his hand. He stands on the steps outside the school, numb and lost. Rain splashes on his skin, soaks into his clothes. (It had slid down his suit that day.) He stares at the buildings. (Half of them had been submerged in the flood.) His eyes sting in little prickles and his chest seizes up like his ribs are getting smaller, trapping his lungs. (He'd cried then, too. He'd cried so hard it was like his body had forgot how to breathe.)

"Adrien?"

The rain is blocked from touching his skin. Marinette. She holds her umbrella over him for shelter and looks at him with such heartfelt concern.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

It feels like people have asked him that question thousands of times, but this is different. The rain, the umbrella, _her_. It's a key unlocking a cracked, stone door. Everything tumbles out, raw and ugly. Tears burn his eyes and he practically collapses against her, his arms locking around her waist, his face burrowing into her shoulder. She lets out a muffled squeak of surprise but doesn't pull away.

"I think I'm going crazy," he whispers into her collar.

"What do you mean?" she says, wrapping her free arm around him. Her voice is hushed to match his tone. It's like they're in their own secret bubble, shielded by the rain that steadily falls.

He closes his eyes and tells her what he can—the dreams, the strange thoughts that feel like real memories. Pretty much everything except that he is Chat Noir. He just says that in this alternate life he's the akuma victim who destroys Paris, maybe the world. And he's left alone.

She stands so still it feels like she's become stone.

"Marinette?"

She drops the umbrella and holds him tightly. So tightly that it hurts. He's startled but not complaining. It feels good to be close to her, to feel her heartbeat and the life that thrums through her body.

This Marinette is still breathing. This Marinette has not left him to wander a silent city.

"You," she murmurs, nose tickling the damp strands of his hair as she nuzzles him. "Of course. How did I not see it before?"

"What?"

She pulls back enough to meet his gaze. With her pigtails plastered to her face and neck like this, it's almost as if her hair is down. "You're not crazy, Adrien."

"But—"

"I don't know why things worked differently this time, but you're not crazy. I … I've seen the world you described."

His eyes widen.

She moves her hands up to clasp his face, a sad smile curving her lips. "I know it must be scary to have all these thoughts, but you don't need to worry, kitty. The miracle cure fixed everything."

Fresh tears form and spill down his cheeks.

"We worked together in the end, just like we always do—"

"My lady?" he chokes out, fighting back a sob.

She presses her forehead to his, and he closes his eyes. He's always wondered, especially after the dreams started, but now he knows. Of course Marinette is Ladybug. No one else could be.

"That timeline won't be our future," she whispers. "I won't let it."

He trembles, overwhelmed by the emotions that fill him. His cold hand finds her cheek and his gaze darts to hers in question. She's already leaning closer. Their lips touch, delicate like the most teasing of caresses. Just a hint of strawberry. Then they kiss again—bolder, more passionately. It's a sigh of waves against rock, an inevitable flow that yearns and yields and crashes with a feeling that cannot be contained.

"I don't ever want to lose you again," he breathes into her lips.

"You won't." Her hand links with his, squeezing tight. "It's you and me against the world. Always."


End file.
